


blood of the martyr

by SerpentineJ



Category: Battle Creek (TV)
Genre: M/M, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25373983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: The FBI asks Milt to help bust a drug smuggling ring running through a gay couple’s cruise line in San Francisco. He agrees – on one condition.
Relationships: Russ Agnew/Milt Chamberlain
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	blood of the martyr

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: I MISSED THEM.. 2015 me had GOOD taste. battle creek’s cancellation is still tv’s #1 tragedy

“No,” Russ says.

“Come on.” Milt says, folding his arms. He’s seated on the edge of Russ’s desk. “Think of it as a free vacation.”

“No way.” Russ says. “I’m not going to pretend to be a couple with you for the feds.”

“Because of the couple thing, or because it’s me?” Milt wheedles. “Come on. It’s no different than going undercover with a female detective.”

“I’m not a homophobe, Milt.” Russ scoffs. He taps his pen on his desk with irritation. “I just don’t feel like doing any favors for the FBI.”

“Well, consider it a favor for me.” Milt says. “I can’t turn down the assignment, it’s a request from my former partner.”

“She’s a bigshot now?” Russ says with a scowl. “She should do it. Doesn’t the FBI have any other female agents?”

Milt shrugs.

“It’s for male couples only.” He says. 

“Great.” Russ says.

“And she said I, as an agent,” Milt continues, “suited this undercover operation the best-“

“Oh, so you’re bragging about being young and pretty?” Russ scoffs.

“Why, thank you.” Milt says.

“It wasn’t a compliment.” Russ says. “You’re so vain.”

“And,” Milt cuts him off, enunciating the word, “I said that I’d only do it if I could choose my partner.”

Russ looks at him.

“And you chose me.” He says.

Milt nods.

“Why? You wanna psych me out, is that it?” Russ snorts, his paperwork completely forgotten at that point. “You wanna play perfect Milt and laugh at me for the whole week?”

Milt raises his eyebrows.

“Because I’d feel the most comfortable pretending to be... intimate... if it were with someone I knew well.” He says, in that faux-genuine tone he knows Russ hates. He pairs it with a widening of his big brown eyes and a guileless face.

Russ glares at him.

“You won’t even have to do anything.” Milt continues, raising his eyebrows, laying his palms over his knees. “I’ll do all the heavy lifting. All I need to do is take a couple pictures and find enough evidence for the Bureau to shut down the cruise line when we get back to land.”

Russ doesn’t seem convinced.

But they’ve gotten closer than before, because he rolls his eyes and makes a noise of annoyance -

“Fine,” he says, putting up less of a fight than Milt had anticipated. “If you get it cleared with Goose.”

Milt smiles.

\--

He has no problem getting the mission cleared with Guziewicz – what commander wouldn’t want their detective getting personally scouted by the FBI – and soon enough, Russ and Milt are boarding a plane from BTL. 

Milt glances at Russ from the corner of his eye.

“What?” Russ says, putting down his phone after the fifth time. “What, what?”

“Are those the only clothes you own?” He says. “You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“These are my vacation clothes.” Russ says.

Milt raises his eyebrows.

“Okay,” he says.

“Man, shut up.” Russ grumbles, picking up his phone again.

\--

Oh, Milt thinks, the first time he circles his arm around Russ’s shoulders and can practically feel the other man gritting his teeth, this was totally worth it.

“I think you’re enjoying this,” Russ grinds out.

“Not at all,” Milt says, a beaming and completely genuine smile on his face.

“I hate you. So much.” Russ says, but he exhales, and relaxes.

Milt likes touching Russ. Granted, they usually only hug in deadly and adrenaline-pumped situations, but when he thinks of the way Russ will drop his forehead onto Milt’s shoulder, and how it seems only natural to splay his fingers at the base of the other man’s neck, it’s a good feeling. 

And he knows Russ doesn’t feel the same way.

This mission is a recipe for disaster, he thinks, and he’s the one who’s set himself up. But he’ll take it. He’ll be a little closer to straight-as-an-arrow Russ for a week, who’s still hung up over his breakup with Holly, and Russ will assume that he’s doing it to mess with him, and it’ll be another funny story in the big book of Milt and Russ when it’s all over.

“One bed?” Russ sighs when they get to their room. The door unlocks with a heavy click after the slick slide of their room key. He doesn’t even sound surprised.

“I can take the couch.” Milt offers.

The ‘couch’ is two armchairs in the corner of the room, next to a large port window. Russ rolls his eyes.

“The FBI couldn’t spring for a bigger room?” He says.

“They’re under budget review right now,” Milt grimaces, and Russ laughs, a short, sharp bark like a hyena.

“Good to hear even the FBI have budget review,” he says.

\--

“This is stupid,” Russ hisses at breakfast. He cuts into a sausage with a vengeance. “You’re even catnip for gay guys?”

Milt smiles amicably. The familiar attention that a room at large gives to a handsome man buzzes against the nape of his neck.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he lies.

“Cut the bullshit.” Russ scoffs. His over-easy egg takes the blunt blade of his knife. Its perfectly cooked yolk oozes viscously onto white ceramic. Milt only has eyes for him – not that he notices. “You’ve had guys staring at you since we left the room this morning. I know you noticed, you narcissist.”

“We should’ve bought you some new clothes before we left San Francisco.” Milt expertly redirects the conversation. “We don’t match at all.”

“Couples’ clothes don’t always match.” Russ snorts. “Just look at me and Holly-“

He cuts himself off. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Russ,” Milt says, even though he’s not particularly sorry and might be a little bit jealous. “I didn’t mean to remind you-“

“Shut up, Milt.” Russ says. “This is my vacation, alright? So shut up.”

He takes a gulp of orange juice. Milt smiles despite himself.

\--

“Want me to rub sunscreen on your back?” Milt says, just to see Russ get mad at him.

\--

“Oh, Jesus,” Russ groans, rolling over, at 5 in the morning. It’s still dark over the ocean outside. Milt can hear the rush of the waves against the hull of the ship, and feel the floor shifting slightly under him. “Where are you going?”

“Workout,” Milt whispers, pulling on a tanktop. The entire room is bathed in dark blue moonlight, its indigo glow filtering through the curtains. “Go back to sleep.”

“You’re inhuman.” Russ mutters. His voice is scratchy with sleep. He presses his face into his pillow. Milt remembers the way that he hugs. 

“I’ll be back before breakfast,” Milt promises.

It almost feels real.

“Good morning,” he says, later, when he opens their room door again, the sun coming up over the horizon. Russ is awake. He’s sitting up in the bed in boxers and a white tank-top, with probably three days of stubble on his face and short hair sticking out of his head every which way. 

“Morning,” Russ says, not looking up from his phone. “I can’t believe you willingly get up that early.”

“Most mornings.” Milt says with a smile. “Want to see the pictures I got of the drugs?”

Russ raises his eyes.

“Already?” He says, incredulous. “We’ve only been here three days!”

Milt shrugs.

“Sometimes things just work out,” he says, internally preening with Russ’s begrudgingly impressed reaction. He sits on the bed and holds out his phone. Russ leans over as he swipes through the pictures and whistles through his teeth.

“They’re moving some designer product,” he says.

“Yup.” Milt replies, shutting off his phone. “That’s why the FBI got involved.”

\--

The evidence is gathered, the ocean is beautiful, and there’s still a few days left in their cruise. Everything is going swimmingly for Milt until –

“Hey, babe,” Russ says, slipping his arm around Milt’s waist in a distinctively possessive way. The man he’s chatting with in the hall – Barry from room 1113 – smiles with his bright blue eyes and straight white teeth. Milt hadn’t even heard him walk up. “Sorry I took so long.”

“This must be your...” He says.

“Partner, yeah.” Milt replies, reciprocating his smile. He tries not to let on how heavy the weight of Russ’s arm around his waist is. He feels his own heart rate pick up. 

“Nice to meet you,” Handsome Barry says.

“Yeah, same.” Russ replies, almost dismissive. His fingers flex around Milt’s hip. Milt keeps himself from swallowing. “Babe, didn’t you want to go to that pilates class at 3?”

“Oh,” Milt says, even though he hadn’t said anything like that. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder. We should go.”

Russ leads him away – Milt waves back down the hallway at Barry.

“How’d you know I do pilates?” He says, as soon as they’re out of earshot.

Russ looks at him.

“You do pilates?” He says.

“I thought you said-“ Milt says.

“Oh, come on.” Russ scoffs, his hand moving slowly to the small of Milt’s back as they walk. “That guy was totally hitting on you.”

“He was only being nice,” Milt says, even though he’d known.

“I don’t think hitting on another guy at a couple’s cruise is considered nice.” Russ snorts. “What’s your boyfriend gonna think?”

\--

“The shower’s open,” Milt says, toweling off his hair.

“Why’d you invite me on this thing?” Russ says.

Milt looks up.

“I explained that already,” he says.

“Not completely.” Russ says, looking at him. He’s wildly perceptive at the worst of times. That’s why criminals hate him. He seems oddly calm. “What’re you hiding, Milt?”

“I’m not hiding anything from you, Russ,” Milt lies. He’s good at it, though he’s never had to use it in this context. It’s always the other party who’s in love with him, not the other way around. 

“Bullshit. I know what your face looks like when you lie.” Russ says.

Milt smiles.

“I guess that’s why you’re my partner,” he says, secretly pleased to be seen through.

“Don’t try to distract from the point.” Russ replies. “You’re not telling me the whole truth.”

Milt shrugs.

“Don’t we all have secrets?” He says, knowing Russ won’t accept that.

Russ looks at him.

“Is it ‘cause you’re gay?” He says.

“Is it true you did a pole dance in a cowboy bra at Funk’s bachelor party?” Milt shoots back. He breaks eye contact and moves to the dresser to put a shirt on. His wet skin shivers with goosebumps. 

“Obviously they told you about that.” Russ mutters, distracted for a moment before refocusing. “Do you like me?”

“Of course I do, Russ.” Milt says, not entirely sure if he’s genuinely trying to avoid the question or just playing a game at this point. He still doesn’t look around. “You’re my partner.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Russ says.

“Then what did you mean?” Milt asks, his back still to him. He can practically hear Russ rolling his eyes.

“I asked if you were gay and then asked if you liked me, genius.” He says. “You put the pieces together.”

Milt pauses for less than a split second. 

“Is it strange that I think you’re an attractive person, Detective Agnew?” He says, purposefully distancing himself, even though he knows it’s not fair. 

“Yes.” Russ says, instantly. And it doesn’t hurt, because Milt has known that Russ is straight. But he continues – “Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?”

“You’re just as attractive as anyone else, if not more, Russ.” Milt says, finding excuses to not turn around. He would have this whole conversation facing the wall if he could, even though he’s not usually one to run away from a confrontation. Even though they’ve played plenty of these games, analyzing each other down to their guts, this one feels higher-stakes than the rest. Because this one genuinely puts their partnership in jeopardy. “You thought Holly was beautiful. Did you think Holly was settling for you?”

It’s a shot below the belt. It’s absolutely not fair. Russ takes it in stride, strangely.

“Why d’you think I never actually confessed to her?” He scoffs.

Milt huffs a laugh despite himself.

“I guess that’s true,” he says, and he turns around.

Russ is looking at him.

“So,” he says, leaning back against the bed’s headboard. “Do you like me, Milt?”

“Why ask now?” Milt says, still not giving a straight answer.

Russ shrugs.

“I dunno.” He says. “You’ve just been so damn happy the whole time we’ve been here.”

“I’m always happy.” Milt says.

“That’s a straight lie,” Russ says.

“I don’t know why you don’t believe me,” Milt says, falling back onto his old habits – deny, feign innocence, be pretty. It usually works, but never on Russ. 

“Quit messing with me,” Russ snorts.

“Aren’t you still in love with Holly?” Milt says.

“Would I be asking you if you like-liked me, like a sixth grader, if I were?” Russ replies, folding his arms.

“I don’t know.” Milt says, shaking his head. “People have a habit of seeking out... comfort, and reaffirmation, in the form of a rebound in the weeks after a breakup-“

“Me and Holly haven’t been together for eight months, Milt.” Russ says.

Milt pauses.

“Huh,” he says. “It’s been that long.”

“Yeah.” Russ says.

“Feels like yesterday,” Milt says, and Russ scoffs at him.

“No, I think you, egging me on to get together with Holly back then,” he says, pointing a finger at him, “and even now, insisting I need a rebound from her eight entire months after we split up, is a you problem.”

“A me problem?” Milt snorts, losing his poker face for a moment.

“Yeah, a you problem.” Russ says. “You and your weird, weird, psycho, pathological habit of martyring yourself.”

“I’m not a martyr,” Milt says.

“You try to be.” Russ replies. “And it’s annoying as hell, honestly.”

“Why is this such a big deal to you, Russ?” Milt says, trying to steer the conversation in a way that he has control. Taking back the offense with a gentle, pacifying, vaguely condescending tone. They’ve always been like this – a form of caring that’s like a battle. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. You don’t need to show me how well you can read me.”

“I know that, dumbass.” Russ says, not rising to the bait. His anger issues have gotten so much better lately. Too much so. Russ in control sets Milt on edge, because then he feels like he’s the only one spinning out of it, and that’s just not fair. Russ shouldn’t be calm while it feels like Milt is keeping it together with a staple gun and a prayer. “But you do like me.”

Milt shrugs.

“Is that a problem?” He says, with more confidence than he feels.

Russ considers for a moment.

“Nah, I think it’s all good.” He says. He pats Milt’s side of the bed. “Come sit down.”

Milt walks over and sits down. The bed sinks under his weight. The thread count of the sheets is lower than in his bed at home, he thinks, but still relatively high, so the quality is acceptable, and then Russ bleeds that thought and every other thought out of his cranium by kissing him on the mouth.

\--

Later that night, they’re laying side by side in bed, the same way they’ve slept for the past few days. Their shoulders press together in the dark.

“Hey,” Milt says, into the dark, to the ceiling, “doesn’t this remind you of when we got kidnapped together and locked in a car trunk?”

“Shut up, Milt.” Russ says.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: idk why i never wrote any battle creek fic in 15 when i first watched it but . theyre so COMPLICATED. Annoying mfers. im obsessed


End file.
